


As Wars Go

by CygnusOlor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Assassin Arya, Confident Sansa, Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Joffrey is alive, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Lesbian Margaery Tyrell, Sanctuary, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sansa to the rescue, bit of angst maybe, direwolves, sansaery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CygnusOlor/pseuds/CygnusOlor
Summary: The Tyrell's are trying to marry Margaery off against her wishes, so she tries to escape the kingdom to hide behind the Unbend-able Queen in the North. Will Sansa risk bringing war to her kingdom for a pretty girl in need?*Rating May Change.*





	1. The Request

Many wars had come and gone since man had started to claim the lands as their own, the battles ranged from across the Narrow Sea and reaching as far as the Riverlands, but never had a war managed to engage the Northmen nor has it been able to cross over the border of the independent northern kingdom.

The maesters well looked after archives told the history of the north and its people, for as long as there had been a kingdom in the north, there had been a male Stark sitting in the ruling seat in Winterfell. That was until new pages were added after the coronation of Lady Sansa Stark, the new Queen of the North.

~*~

It was the beginning of spring that marked Sansa’s fourth year as the reigning queen of her ancestral lands. A role she had obtained through pain and tragedy, as she only wore the Direwolf crown because those who had stood before her in the line had been taken from her.

Winters were typically cruel in the northern kingdom, but the one that had stripped away half of the Stark royal family had been particularly vicious. 

The first to fall had been her eldest brother Rob, followed closely by her youngest; Rickon. Bitter cold nights and the deathly grasp of winter winds in their chests had weakened them both beyond the maesters healing abilities. They both left the world with bone rattling coughs and wheezes. 

It was likely the grief of losing two of her children that had killed her mother; Queen Catelyn, the master had said that her heart had just given up as she slept. And then the final blow came as her father; King Eddard, collapsed in the courtyard clutching his chest.

Naturally there had been a debate as to who was going to take the throne, was it to be the bastard, the broken boy or would tradition be thrown out of the window and allow for a woman to solely take the crown. 

Political unrest had only lasted a week or so, before Lady Mormont had taken a stand, telling the lords what they already knew was their only choice. Jon Snow; though a bastard was already under oath as the Lord Commander of the Nightswatch. And Lord Bran was insistent on following the path of the three-eyed raven. And young Lady Arya, had been shipped off over the Narrow Sea for schooling. That only left Lady Sansa, not only because she was the eldest, but because late King Eddard had always boasted how well his eldest daughter would do in his place.

Of course, there were plenty more lords and ladies who had their reservations about a young girl; who had barely seen seventeen winters, ruling over them. Though time and time again, over her four years on the throne, Sansa had proven her worth and her ability to lead a prosperous kingdom even in the harshest of times.

It probably helped that the people of the north were a superstitious bunch, who had quickly spread the word that their new queen was blessed by the old gods.

On the day of Sansa’s coronation beside the Weirwood tree, two direwolf pups had stumbled from the nearby undergrowth, landing right beside the newly blessed queen; who had yet to get up from where she had knelt in prayer. Direwolves hadn’t been seen in centuries, thought to have died out long ago. People were even saying that the spirit of the old king and queen had reincarnated as the pups, at first it was due to the number and the colouring of them; each matching that of one of the deceased royals, but as time went on and the pups grew, so did their need to protect their queen. 

It was hard on lonely nights not to fall into the same line of thinking, Sansa tried her best not to dwell on it.

She had named the male pup; Asher, his coat was pale gold with delicate wisps of grey brushed in. And then there was the female; Serena, she had such a deep brown coat with red highlights…almost Tully she thought. They never strayed far, even as the years passed.

~*~

It was only recently that a raven had arrived with a message from one of the many spies the north had dotted around beyond their border, the message was coded, but as the maester read it through, slowly his eyes grew and he quickly moved from his chambers in search of his queen.

He did eventually find her, outside with her beasts, praying at the weir-tree. Asher was the first to move as the rotund cloaked man shuffled quickly towards them. Upon noticing the wild eyes of the animal, the maester came to a stop and called out to the young woman. “Your Grace, my apologies for the interruption. I’ve just received word from the southern territories.”

“I hope it’s not another request for a meeting from Lady Olenna, Maester Tolken. I believe I was quite clear the last time.” Sansa responded as she stood to her full height, which never failed to make many of the shorter lords feel intimidated.

“No, Your Grace. This is from one of our Ravens, they say they’ve heard talks of a war brewing between at least three of the noble houses. If the chatter is correct, Your Grace…then The Vale is involved.” Maester Tolken grimaced, as he knew the familial connection between the Queen Sansa and her Aunt Lysa were strained at best.

“What is that lunatic up to?” Sansa muttered quietly, closing her eyes briefly as she took a steadying breath, before turning towards her most trusted advisor. “I want the southern boarder fortified, and all trade routes are to be gated with check points in place. Traders are to carry official documentation, and I think it goes without saying that I don’t want any southern royalty, lord or lady getting through without invitation. The North is closed.” 

“I’ll send word immediately, my Queen. Might I suggest you give the overseeing to Lord Howland Reed, Your Grace? He’s proven capably on numerous occasions and he is the closest.” He asked. Receiving only a nod in response, Tolken understood that he was being dismissed and quickly went to task, leaving the queen to her now whirling thoughts.

~*~

Several weeks would pass of northern men being put to the task of building a thick wooden barricade along the border, every day from dawn til dusk men worked to do their queens bidding. 

During this time Winterfell had been flooded with angry messages from traders whose journey and business had been disrupted. Even though Maester Tolken had sent out messages to all registered traders of the north that certification should be applied for immediately, which was supposed to have prevented any so-called disruptions. Eventually the noise died down as the fortification come to completion and things started to run a bit smoother.

It was at this time that a message was sent to Lord Reed, informing him that the queen and her convoy were going to traveling south to see for themselves what her people had accomplished in such a short time.

By early morning of the sixth day of travel, Sansa had arrived on the outskirts of Greywaters Watch. 

The weather had been kind to them, so not only had the trip been easier, but faster also…not to mention the convoy only looked a little worse for wear. Though the queen looked almost as pristine as when she had set off from her keep, which amazed many of the men, mainly because their queen had ridden at the front of the convoy the entire way, only using her carriage to sleep in when they broke for camp.

In the distance a number of horses and their riders could be seen heading towards them at some speed, the commander of the Winterfell soldiers pulled the convoy to a stop and they waited for the riders to approach. As they got closer the banner that they carried was easily recognisable as House Reed.

Sansa nudged her horse forward once more, which in turn had the rest of her men moving quickly to follow her lead. The horsemen from House Reed slowed down to gentle trot as they neared their royal guest.

“Thank you for personally receiving us Lord Reed, though there really was no need.” Sansa said in greeting as the lord himself moved closer to a respectful distance, ducking his head in greeting to the young queen.

“It is my honour, Your Grace. And I must say, that is a fine-looking horse you have.” Replied the lord as he barely contained his awe at the giant coal black gelding that carried the red head, whilst trying to avoid making eye contact with her wolves. Sansa thanked him with a subtle nod. “Ah yes, this is Benjen.” In truth the horse had been a gift from House Tyrell, that Sansa had reluctantly accepted, they’d gifted the war horse to celebrate the beginning of her reign, but Sansa saw it for what it had been…a poor attempt at gaining favour with the forever cold northern kingdom.

“My men would like to retire to your keep, my Lord. Though I myself will be wanting to see the progress your men have made with the barricade.” As the commander of the Winterfell troops was about to insist on accompanying his queen, Asher and Serena moved up from behind their queen to either side of her, causing the commanders horse to fidget nervously and back away.

“Of course, Your Grace. If you’d like to follow me, my men can escort your guardsmen to Greywater.” Again Lord Reed accepted the subtle nod from his queen and gestured for his own men to get moving, whilst he himself bowed his head at the reigning Stark and her beasts, motioning for them to ride before himself, as he followed just behind still being able to speak easily to the young woman.

As they rode through the rough marsh lands, Lord Reed made use of the time to pass on relevant information, mostly about the goings on further south. Being so close to the border meant that House Reed was usually caught wind of many rumours, scandals and events that other northern houses would never hear a whisper of. “We’ve had a fair number of noble houses approach the gates, my Queen. They’ve all be turned away of course, though I feel you should know that House Lannister and House Tyrell have been the most insistent about having an audience with yourself.”

This wasn’t exactly new to Sansa, she’d received many a raven asking for her to visit or to allow someone to visit her, all of which had been declined. She knew the southern houses were clambering for allies in this pointless war they were brewing and were seeking to take advantage of the young queen, but the red head was having none of it. She may be a novice in war terms, but politics and reading people was an area she had always excelled at.

It was barely mid-day when they finally reached the bottle neck of newly fortified border, the towering gate was currently stood open, allowing traders; waving their papers, passage in and out of the northern lands.

Off to the side, but within view of the comings and goings at the gates opening, Sansa sat astride her horse, with Asher and Serena again on either side of her. Her nordic blue eyes roved the area, looking for weak spots or for areas of improvement. It was then that a commotion had kicked off at the entrance of the gate.

While Lord Reed was quick to ride up from where he had been conversing with one of his captains, to where the ruckus had started from, the situation only seemed to be escalating. Refusing to sit back and watch, Sansa also made a move to intervene; bolstered by the fact that Asher and Serena were at her side and were menacingly large, their heads easily reaching her horses shoulders.

A watchman had immediately recognised the hooded woman who was slowly making her way towards the gathering, if the giant beasts weren’t a big enough give away then the Stark family insignia attached to the horses’ armour said exactly who its rider was. “Make way! Clear the gate! Make way for the Queen!” He shouted continuously in aid of his queens’ passage.

Having her presence announced had caused an immediate halt in movement, aside from those who were stumbling over themselves to clear off the path she was on, trying to walk and bow wasn’t helping their cause, but Sansa appreciated the attempt regardless.

Reigning Benjen in to come to a gentle stop just outside the line of guardsmen who were taking up defensive positions to cut off whoever was making the scene at the gate. The line then broke just enough to allow the queen and her wolves through into the circle of guards.

The colours were immediately recognisable as was the flower insignia, though the young man bearing it all; whilst obviously of noble birth judging from his impeccable armour and the arrogant air around him, wasn’t known to the queen. Who ever this little lord was, his bravery began to falter; even with his comrades at his back, as the northern queen moved slowly closer to him and with her came creatures that he’d only ever heard horror stories about.

His nerves had clearly begun to get the better of him as his hand that had previously been resting on the pummel of his sword, grasped tightly at the wrapped leather and began to remove it from its sheath.

It was half-way out when Sansa spoke firmly over her now snarling protectors. “If you value you arm, little Lord, then I advise that you re-sheath your weapon.” Bodies grew stiff and the air became thicker as the tension mounted. And though the queens warning had frozen the offending mans arm, he also did not make any move to put his weapon back in its hold.

“Heed the Queen’s advice, brother. There is no need for us to fall out.” A soft almost humoured voice said. Then a delicate hand appeared on the man’s elbow, gently easing the sword back into the sheath.

Sansa managed to keep her face neutral, though her brows were just itching to raise up to show her surprise at the sudden appearance of the uniquely beautiful woman with mousey brown hair; who can’t have been much older than herself. Her small stature had easily been concealed behind the knights larger armoured frame.

“We apologise Your Grace; we meant no offence. It was a minor misunderstanding that got out of hand you see.” The woman said as she performed a perfect curtsey and kept her head low, though her eyes hardly let the beasts before her out of sight.

A scoff was heard from the woman’s brother, “Minor misunderstanding? That peasant spat at you and called you a whore.” The man huffed angrily, completely ignoring the elbow that had been jabbed into his unprotected side and the “Shut up, Lores.” That the woman hissed his way.

Though Sansa was close enough to hear it all, and she quickly made the connection. “Ser Lores of House Tyrell I presume?” She said, watching as the man’s chest puffed up proudly, which was answer enough, so Sansa turned to attention to the woman again. “I suppose that makes you Lady Margaery Tyrell, then yes?”

Clearly having better manners than her older sibling, Lady Margaery smiled politely and dipped her head in greeting once again. “Yes, Your Grace. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

“An honour that was not granted if I remember correctly, I distinctly recall rejecting House Tyrell’s request to have an audience with myself. And as I’m also aware that your grandmother is no fool, I’ll admit I’m curious as to why her two youngest heirs are trying to cross into my kingdom uninvited.” Sansa replied icily, watching as the woman before had the grace to blush. “First things first, I’d like to know who spat at you.”

Almost immediately, Ser Lores was pointing at one of Lord Reed’s foot soldiers; who was conveniently stood right beside his mounted lord. Silent conversation appeared to take place between Lord Reed and his queen. Then Margaery caught the smallest of nods from the hooded queen, before Lord Reed leaned down a bit from his horse and cuffed the accused footman around the back of his helmet; dislodging it somewhat. The man bumbled out a series of apologies to both the Lady Tyrell, his lord and his queen; all whilst trying to re-situate his helm.

“Adequate?” Sansa asked as she turned back to the two flowers, one baffled by the events he had just witnessed and the other looked positively delighted, if the smirk was anything to go by. “Good. Lady Margaery you may follow me, but your bannermen must return beyond the gate.”

The brunettes brother looked ready to argue, but Margaery had some hushed words with him, which had Lores turning back to the northern queen and dipped his head, before turning and ordered his men back to the carriage that had been abandoned.

Margaery stood a bit awkwardly as the queen made no move to lead her anywhere, as she was watching the green tunics retreat back over the borderline; not even a blink had interrupted the frosty stare. Once Lores and the bannermen were all well clear of the gate, that’s when the young queen turned her horse around, starting off in the direction of a large command tent.

Having only gone a few paces, Sansa noticed that whilst the foot soldiers around her had started to disperse back to their posts, the Lady Margaery hadn’t budged an inch. It was probably because Asher and Serena had yet to move after their queen either, instead they were keeping eye contact with the suddenly petrified looking Tyrell. 

“If they were going to attack you, they’d have done so already.” Sansa said, though she only received a shaky nod from the woman behind her. It was then that Serena moved to circle around the frozen brunette, steadily getting closer as her circling got tighter. When a cold wet nose touched the bare skin of Margaery’s hand, she squealed and jumped away going toward the mounted queen, until she realised the other wolf was blocking her way.

Whilst Sansa wished she was able to laugh out loud at the scene, she did feel some sense of pity for the southern lady. “Serena, Asher. That’s enough.” She knew they meant no harm, but she also knew that most folk were unnerved greatly by a supposedly extinct beast, whose head was larger than a grown man’s torso, sniffing around them. “She was just looking, you know.” Sansa said finally, as she started to move again now that her wolves were back at her side.

“Looking to eat me, more like.” Margaery whispered, her hand coming up to cover her rapidly beating heart as she slowly flowed after the queen.

Rarely did Margaery find her confidence knocked to the point of visible nervousness, but the presence of the unemotional northern woman; who didn’t look the slightest bit interested in Margaery or what she had to say, definitely rocked her a little, not to mention that she was now without the protection of her brother and bannermen…with two very intimidating direwolves watching her every move, a lesser being might have soaked their underclothes already.

Margaery watched from a few feet away as the queen stopped outside of the large tent, pulling her heavy looking hood back revealing luscious red hair. There was a soldier there, but he had grabbed the horse’s reigns and had made no effort to assist his queen. The older woman wondered if this was normal behaviour in the north, maybe women here were treated as more than fragile porcelain; to be protected, bought and sold.

Even without the assistance, Sansa dropped down from her horse’s impressive height with ease and grace, that surprised the brunette. Sansa then turned towards where Margaery had paused and gestured with a gloved hand for the southern heir to enter the tent ahead of herself.

“Take ten paces.” Sansa ordered swiftly as Margaery passed her, but Margaery paused and spun around thinking the queen had been talking to her. Only she noticed that the red head was facing away from her as she spoke, then almost immediately the guardsmen that had been posted outside the tent began to take equally measured steps away from them.

Trusting that the men would do as instructed, Sansa made no effort to watch them as she moved toward the older woman who had paused at the flap of the tent. “Soldiers gossip worse than handmaids.” She said in way of an explanation.

Walking further into the tent, Margaery stopped just before a raised chair, just as the taller woman glided past and took her place upon the seat. Being so absorbed the in the vision that was a very confident Stark woman, Margaery had momentarily forgotten about the queen’s beasts, up until they brushed against her in unison, one of each side, as they moved passed her toward their seated queen.

This time Sansa allowed a flicker of amusement to show on her face as the southern lady jolted and gasped at the touch. “My time is precious Lady Tyrell, so let’s keep this brief. Why are you here?” Sansa asked as she sat back into her chair folding her hands across her stomach.

It was almost impressive how quickly the young flower was able to gather her courage from where she had dropped it earlier. “Your Grace, my brother and I…” She started only to falter again as the red head steadily leaned forward and interrupted her.

“Ser Lores is a sheep, and you Lady Margaery are his shepherd. It took mere moments for me to see that, he’s here because you brought him…so I ask again. Why are you here?” Sansa would normally have been gentler towards a woman, but with the war still brewing and House Tyrell being a main contender, well she wasn’t willing to take any chances.

Seeing that the young queen wouldn’t be easily led around with riddled sentences, Margaery straightened her back and went with the direct truth instead. “I seek sanctuary in your kingdom, Your Grace.”

Of all the plots and schemes Sansa had already come up with, a request of sanctuary wasn’t in any of them. She can’t remember it being documented that anyone had ever sought the north for safety. So having the pride and joy of House Tyrell come to her for such a thing caused some concern to build up behind Sansa’s steely walls. Either the threat to the brunette’s safety was more than the Reach could handle or the Reach was the threat, neither were good.

“Sanctuary. Why?” She asked, quietly.

Margaery’s eyes flickered from the queen to her wolves and back, before she spoke. “May I speak freely, Your Grace?” Taking the waved hand as permission the brunette continued. “Prince Joffrey has requested for my hand in marriage, and my father has rather boldly accepted on my behalf. I tried to appeal to my grandmother, but she’s always had great plans for our house, for myself especially. I know it’s my duty to help further my house, but I beg of you to understand Your Grace, the crown prince in utterly mad. There is also the small issue of Lord Renly Baratheon and House Arryn have also asked for the same, the rejection has brought offence to both houses and my life has been threatened.” She took a breath when she’d finished, her cheeks flushed a little pink, thinking she’s become a little freer with her words than she’d intended.

Silence had taken over the tent, only the steady breathing of the wolves was audible. Margaery almost found herself fidgeting under the queens unwavering stare.

“Do you mean to tell me, that I’ve had my soldiers work night and day to fortify a border to protect my people from a war that is building because three houses wish to wed you…and you’ve come to me, essentially leading the war to my gates by asking for sanctuary here?” Sansa asked slowly, making sure she understood all the facts.

Again, Margaery had the good graces to be embarrassed, she appreciated how it looked and sounded when said aloud, but really what choice did she have? Any other realm would only ask that she wed them instead in return for offering her safety, the north only had a reigning queen and were well known to be against wedding outside of their own borders. 

Though with the lack of expression or any form of reaction from the queen, her escape wasn’t looking promising.

To be continued…


	2. The Journey

As Wars Go  
Chapter Two -The Journey

Everything in Sansa was screaming for her to decline the older woman’s request. It would surely bring nothing but trouble to her kingdom and its people if she accepted to shield this woman from those who wish to do her harm. Would she be any safer at Winterfell if the northern people found out that their queen had invited war to their home, merely to protect one noble; a southern female one at that.

Her heart on the other hand clenched painfully at the thought of sending Lady Margaery away to an almost certain death and if she managed to escape that, then she’d certainly end up living a life much worse at Joffrey’s hands. 

Though the north had never actually engaged in war outside of its own borders in centuries, the northern army was without a doubt the largest of them all, rivalled only by Queen Daenerys’ army over the Narrow Sea, but honestly could anyone truly compete with a dragon, never mind three of them? Not that Sansa thought she’d have to; she was on friendly enough terms with the foreign queen who had taken a liking to her half-brother Jon…much to his embarrassment.

So, it wasn’t the threat of war that concerned Sansa. It was the safety and the opinions of her people that concerned her the most, she’d spent so long gaining their trust, respect and love. Would she be willing to risk throwing all that away to help a woman she’d never met until now?

“God’s help me.” Sansa whispered as she dropped her head slightly to stare at her lap.

As it had been so quiet, Margaery had heard the queen mumble something and had immediately held her breath waiting for her answer.

“As the Queen of this land, I hereby grant you, Lady Margaery, sanctuary in my kingdom. You will come with me to Winterfell, though there will be rules and you will work. Is that clear?” Sansa said firmly, moving to stand from her chair, towering over the brunette more than she already did on flat ground.

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” Margaery replied, letting out a heavy breath, her body filling up with relief. The north will be a steep learning curve of that she was sure, but it was better than the alternative, she could only hope that her family and people would forgive her for being selfish just this once.

“What of my brother Lores, Your Grace?” The brunette asked, just remembering that she’d roped him into coming here with her.

“I’m already taking a risk housing one Tyrell heir. The direct threat was to yourself; Ser Lores can return back to Highgarden. Make sure you give him a message for your grandmother in regard to your decision. I’ve got no intention of hiding your presence here, but I also do not want the Reach claiming the North has taken one of their own against their will.” Sansa responded, she flicked her hand at the table on her left, which was littered with parchment and writing aids. “Make it quick, we’ll be going to Greywater shortly, before returning to Winterfell.”

~*~

If Lord Reed had an opinion about what his queen was doing by housing the Lady Tyrell, then he didn’t mention it. When Sansa had informed him of the current events, the old Lord had quickly made sure that one of the keeps servants made a room up for their new guest near the queen; as per her request.

He also didn’t say anything against his queen when she decided to cut her visit at Greywater short to take her guest back to Winterfell the very next day. He just hoped the young Stark knew what she was doing, as she’d done well so far to improve the lives of all Northmen, he had high hopes for the rest of her reign.

Sansa and her guardsmen had left Greywater in the early hours, hoping to get ahead of the gloom that had taken over the morning sky, though it didn’t do them much good, but at least they managed to clear the swampy land before the rain had started to fall too heavily upon them. 

The trip had of course taken much longer on the return, due to bad weather and having to dig the now occupied carriage out of the muddy paths on various occasions. 

Eventually the strong walls of Winterfell greeted the convoy and just seeing it brought a sense of comfort and security to the red head. She had once again ridden at the front, leaving Lady Margaery to have the carriage by herself during the travelling hours, only entering when they had broken for camp. Looking behind her she was able to see that the young Tyrell had her head leaning out of the carriage staring in wonder as they approached the cold stone walls of Winterfell. 

She was an odd creature, Sansa thought. The older woman flickered between being a confident well-bred Lady of The Reach and being a bit of a mess. Truthfully Sansa preferred her when she was in the middle of the two, her barely restrained free spirit was refreshing.

Soldiers, maids and her brother Bran; with Maester Tolken behind him, were in the courtyard waiting to welcome their queen home. The sound of the soldiers standing to attention as she entered the gates echoed off the walls, it never failed to send a pleasant shiver up her spine. She’d earned this level of respect and it was nice to be reminded of it.

“My Queen, welcome home. I saw that you were bringing a guest, Maester Tolken made sure a room was set up near your own, she’s to be your right hand after all.” Bran greeted, his blank face only twitching slightly as an almost smile graced his face.

“I hadn’t even considered that.” Sansa replied after she dismounted and moved to hug her brother softly. She ignored his “but you will.” And turned to where her new guest was standing, after having stepped out of the carriage and froze once she saw that all eyes had suddenly turned to look at her. 

“Lady Margaery. I’d like you to meet my brother; Lord Brandon Stark and my adviser Maester Tolken.” Sansa announced, gesturing with her head for the brunette to approach them, though she kept her hands folded in front of her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Lord. Maester Tolken, I’ve heard many a great thing about you during my trips to Kings Landing.” Margaery greeted, already working to hopefully butter up her new company, though she could tell already that she wouldn’t get very far with the young lord; who merely stared blankly at her.

“You flatter me my Lady.” Maester Tolken chortled, his puffy cheeks tinging pink, from more than just the fierce nip in the air Sansa concluded. Though he’s merely one among many men that Sansa has witnessed blushing in the Tyrell’s presence. “My Queen, if you’d like I can show our guest to her room.” He continued, his starry eyes flickering back continuously towards the brunette.

“I’m sure you have more important things to be doing, Maester. I’m going to my chambers anyway, I’m sure I can handle escorting Lady Margaery myself.” Sansa responded, an eyebrow shifting just slightly, causing her advisor to blush a little more and bumble an apology. Turning to the older woman beside her, Sansa gestured for her to follow. “One of the men will bring your things shortly, come along.”

Being led through the long stone halls of Winterfell, Margaery remained silent as the red head hardly slowed her stride even a little and with the height advantage she already held over the brunette, Margaery was struggling to make sure she didn’t fall behind without looking like she was running after the woman.

Having been focused on keeping pace, Margaery had little to no time to pause when Sansa came to a quick stop near a junction in the hallway, so naturally the brunette stumbled into the younger woman. Sansa’s hands came up quickly, landing on Margaery’s biceps, stabilising them both. “I’m starting to think that the whispers of your gracefulness have been slightly exaggerated.”

By the Seven, if only her grandmother could see her now, she’d have a few choice words for Margaery, of that she was certain. Whether it was the stress of it all finally getting to her, or the long journey, she didn’t know…it certainly had nothing to do with the beautiful woman who held such power in the north. People didn’t fluster Margaery Tyrell, she flustered them, that was how it had always been.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I think all the travelling has worn me down, I’m afraid.” Margaery excused, stepping backward a bit once Sansa’s warm hands had fallen away from her. 

The queen merely hummed, before turning to open the heavy wood door and walking in. She waited in the centre of the room as the brunette followed her in, watching as the southern woman took a look around. “This will be your chambers until further notice, my room is just through that door. For now, I’ll leave you to settle in. A servant will be sent to collect you for evening meal, at which point we can iron out what will be expected of you during your stay.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Margaery replied, folding her hands before her and dipped her head respectfully. 

~*~

Since they arrived at Winterfell around mid-day, it wasn’t too much of wait for the evening to come around, though Margaery found it hard to tell as the nights seem to settle in faster up north. Guards had arrived not long after Sansa had left, carrying her trunks. And as she had gone about putting her things away, she’d realised she was woefully unprepared for the cold.

Lores had helped her with her secret packing, but whilst they had both only packed her thicker clothes, they just weren’t going to cut it, it was much colder than either of them had anticipated. The only suitable piece she had was the thick fur cloak that Lord Reed had so graciously gifted her before they’d set off.

Of course, she had packed quite a bit of coin, but she hadn’t a clue as to whether she’d have access to a market to actually purchase some thicker garments. She didn’t want to bring this issue to the queen, not only was the younger woman already doing so much for her, but Margaery felt like she had already embarrassed herself enough, without coming across as too foolish to be able to pack properly for the colder climate.

After packing away her measly amount of clothes, Margaery pondered about her room. She was still unable to understand why she’d been given the room adjoining the queens, it certainly wasn’t a normal thing to do. Margaery’s ladies in waiting weren’t even housed near her rooms in the Reach, and for some reason, she a perfect stranger had been placed in room of considerable honour. The room itself was quite cosy and well maintained, dark oak furniture gave the room a warm but elegant feel to it. She even had a window, albeit a small one that overlooked some dense looking woods, but it brought a decent amount of natural light in.

It was as Margaery was gazing out of said window, when a knock sounded from the adjoining door. Calling out seemed rude, not the mention the fact that she had no idea who was going to be on the other side, so she quickly moved to open the door herself.

Waiting patiently on the other side was nonother than the queen herself, who was stood with her hands clasped together in front of her. Margaery noted that some layers had been removed, Sansa was now wearing a thick looking dark grey dress, which had some intricate looking silver stitching all over it and it was finished with a leather corset that looked like an armour chest plate. The Queen of the North was certainly a sight to be seen and if the brunette wasn’t so in awe, she might have noticed that little trickle of fear tickling the back of her neck.

“Your Grace.” Margaery greeted, dipping her head. She tried to subtly look around for the giant beasts that liked to sneak up and startle her. She obviously needed to freshen up on her subtly though as the queen clearly saw straight through her.

“They’re wondering the halls or scaring the kitchen staff into giving them scraps.” She said waving her hand vaguely. “I’ve decided that we’ll dine in my chambers this evening and discuss what you’ll be doing around here.” Sansa stated, before turning swiftly and heading further into her room, expecting the older woman to follow. 

The redhead had already cleared half the room before Margaery’s brain kicked into motion, she was barely able to get a good look around the main area of the room, she noted there was no bed in sight though, so she assumed this was a room that separated their bedchambers, a common room perhaps?

Sansa was stood beside a medium sized table that only had four chairs tucked against it, though it had various plates of different foods on, seemingly just enough for the two of them. As soon as the younger woman took a seat, Margaery steadily slipped into the one opposite. Hoping she’d choose correctly, she’d never actually dined privately with royalty before, overcrowded banquets were much less nerve-wrecking. 

It was quiet for a moment as Sansa took her time gathering different things to fill her plate, and again whilst she waited for her guest to do the same; though she found some amusement in watching Margaery trying to figure out what some of the dried meats and pies were.

“Is your room to your liking?” Sansa asked as she delicately tore some bread into pieces.

“It is, Your Grace. It’s quite charming and surprisingly warm since it has no hearth.” Margaery added with a smile. “Is it true that Winterfell is built above a natural hot spring?” 

“It is. Though it can only heat so much. Speaking of which, if you have the coin, I’d suggest having some warmer garments made for yourself. Hanna does some wonderous work with leathers and thicker fabrics, if you’d like?” Margaery’s eager nodding would have to be response enough, since she appeared to have her pinking cheeks stuffed with bread. “I’ll make sure she’s sent to you, midday tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll admit I didn’t anticipate how cold your kingdom actually was.” Margaery blushed again, but felt a little less embarrassed when Sansa hummed, “Not many do. You have to feel it for yourself to truly understand.”

Sansa allowed for Margaery to eat more of her food before she started her next line of questioning. Once the brunette dabbed at her mouth with piece of linen, Sansa pushed her plate aside and poured them both a half mug of wine. Waving off the brunette’s attempt of doing it for her, she had lot to learn about how Sansa ran things around here.

“Do you have any experience or talents that can be put to use here?” Sansa asked after taking a small sip of her drink. “Making men fall over themselves not included.” The unexpected jest had Margaery duck her head shyly, covering her mouth as she laughed quietly.

“I don’t think you’d have much use for my particular talents, Your Grace. Flowers, flirting and intricate hairstyles won’t get me very far up here, I don’t think.” Margaery replied, a bit of self-deprecation slipping in.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. There isn’t a lord on any land who isn’t struck a little stupid by compliments from a beautiful woman.” She then cleared her throat, having realised she just let that particular opinion slip out. Even if it did make the smaller woman smile bashfully at her. “We might be able to make use of you; I’ll show you the glass houses in the morning. And I suppose we can see how you do, braiding my hair in the mornings too. Essentially, you’ll be my handmaid, but you’ll have other duties, since I don’t require that much attention.”

“It would be my honour, Your Grace.” 

~*~

Several weeks had passed without any major incidents. Of course, Sansa had received many messages sent via courier and even more sent by her Ravens, who were reporting on the progression of the war of bruised ego. 

Most of the messages were actually from Olenna Tyrell, who must have sent a daily message demanding Sansa return her granddaughter, those were passed onto Margaery who responded with messages describing her day to day goings on and how happy she was in the north. Even though it was Margaery responding, Olenna only sent messages addressed to the queen, again repeating her demands. At one-point Sansa had quietly referred to her as a stubborn old goat, which had given Margaery a stitch from laughing.

It was only recently that the Ravens’ messages have started suggesting that the warring parties were now starting to turn their attention towards the north, where their prize was hiding.

Each hold on their own were of little to no threat to Sansa’s kingdom. The concern came from whether they had the sense to band together to truly engage the north, which was seemingly more likely to happen if the latest report was anything to go by. There were whispers of King Robert having secret talks with her Lady aunt, suggesting a joining of forces in exchange of marrying his only daughter off to Sansa’s snivelling cousin. 

It was such news that had Sansa reaching out to the Targaryen queen, inviting her to visit also adding a suggestion of possibly visiting Jon to sweeten the deal. 

Sansa had been enjoying a quiet breakfast whilst Margaery braided her hair into a intricate knot used amongst the ladies in Highgarden, when a young serving boy was let into the room by a guard, the boy was out of breath and made quick work of bowing to his queen before quickly handing over the scroll he held before fleeing just as quickly the moment Sana dismissed him.

Not bothered by the fact that Margaery was likely able to read the script over her shoulder, Sansa unrolled the scroll and began to read through it. “We’ll need to make sure the guest house is prepared shortly.”

Not hiding the fact that she had indeed read over her queen’s shoulder, Margaery spoke. “Does Queen Daenerys always speak to you like that, Your Grace?” From what she had been able to read, the Dragon Queen spoke to the redhead like they were old maids that had been friends since birth. 

“Ever since I met her. She’s quite mad, no doubt about it. It’s the good kind of mad though. She looks after her people and rules a prosperous, slave free kingdom…she’s just a little eccentric. And she struggles to understand our customs sometimes.” Sansa explained. It was something she found herself doing more of lately, happily answering all of Margaery’s questions about her lands and its people. She seemed genuinely interested and that made Sansa burn a little on inside with happiness. 

Margaery had been an asset in the glass houses, the keeper had nothing but good reports to pass on about her. Had the witches touch he’d said, though Sansa was sure he meant it as a compliment. Only recently had she started spending more time with the redhead, following her throughout the day as she went about her queenly duties. 

Conversation between the two was slowly becoming more fluid as Margaery started to find her footing and had started to notice the signs of when Sansa was only jesting her or when she was spoiling for an argument; thankfully those were rare occasions.

“Your Gra…” Margaery started only to go silent when the red head had turned in her seat to look at her. 

“I think I’d prefer it if you just called me Sansa in private, I hardly ever get to hear my own name anymore.” Sansa had said, almost huffing as she turned back around missing Margaery’s stunned face.

“…. Okay. Sansa. If you’ll just call me Margaery in return. Will Daenerys be bringing her dragons?” Margaery asked, feeling almost giddy now that she’d been given permission to address the queen in such a familiar way. It was short lived, as she’d just finished tying the final knot in the red tresses when Asher had headbutted her hip in greeting, which almost knocked her off her feet; had Sansa not already seen it coming and quickly reached out to catch her, she’d surely have hit the hard floor.

“Her dragons are her children, much like Asher and Serena are mine. Where she goes, they follow.” Sansa answered, a smile growing on her face as she watched Margaery send her biggest creature the stink eye and receiving a blank look in return. “At least he didn’t get you in the ribs this time.” She added, followed by a quite chortle as she moved passed the affronted woman to pet her shaggy protector.

~*~

A week earlier across the Narrow Sea...

“Tyrion......Tyrion!” The female voice echoed around the vast empty sandstone room. Her shouting almost drowned out the crunching of the letter that was crumbling beneath her tightly clenched fist. Almost shaking in her excitement.

Movement to her left caught her eye. Her recently acquired bodyguard, Arya.

“If it pleases you your Grace, I can go and find your Lord Hand?” Arya asked, stepping out silently from the shadowy area she’d been surveying from. She’d been watching the whole scene from the white blonde receiving the letter to her screeching for her Hand.

“Ah, Arya.” The blonde loudly greeted, making the short brunette wince. “Can you find him without almost scaring him to death? He’s quite delicate.”

Holding back a grin, Arya merely smirked at the equally short if not shorter blonde; who was currently sitting on the very edge of her throne. “I’ll try my absolute best, your Grace.” She said before she stepped back into her dark space and promptly vanished from view.

The blonde sat back in her chair, bringing the correspondence back up to eye level and started reading it again from the beginning.

Before long the large doors of the empty room were pushed open, allowing her Hand to walk quickly into the room to stand before his queen, though it looked more like he was desperately trying to put some space between his pale looking self and reaper that followed behind him; looking very proud of herself.

“Finally, Tyrion. I’ve been invited by Queen Sansa herself to visit Winterfell. Of course, I’ll be taking Arya, I’ll need a guide. You’ll stay here and look after this place, yes?” The queen spoke quickly, not really looking to discuss this with the man. Her mind was made up. 

“Of course, your Grace, will this visit be for politics or for pleasure?” Tyrion asked, whilst trying to subtly shift further away from Arya, though she somehow seemed to get closer to him whenever he moved. It gave him chills.  
“Bit of both I suppose, my assistance to help quell a brewing war has been requested and I’m finally being allowed to visit that giant ice wall thing that they have there. Exciting, yes.” She replied, whilst shaking the invite in the man direction. 

“Should we not discuss this, my Queen. Surely...” Tyrion started, before violet eyes narrowed down at him. 

“I am going. You are staying. Oh, and I’ll be taking the boys with me.” With that said, the small queen quickly jumped up from her chair and made to leave the room. “Come along, Lady Stark. No time like the present.”

Arya mumbling her upset at the title went completely ignored as she also moved to follow the other woman.

“The boys? Which boys?......Daenerys, which boys?!” Tyrian called out loudly to his disappearing leader.

“All the boys, Tyrion.” Daenerys shouted back without even turning back around, throwing her hands in the air freely.

Tyrion sighed heavily and plopped down roughly on the sun warmed steps, his head leaning back to look at the almost blinding glass dome that was the roof. “I need a drink.” 

~*~

Present Day back at Winterfell...

The day had started out okay. And then Margaery had been banished to the glass houses not too soon after having woken up. 

It wasn’t for anything that she’d done wrong as such, but because Sansa had called a meeting with all the main northern houses, in regard to the brewing war and the southern houses turning their aim north.

Admittedly Margaery was quite hurt by Sansa suddenly shutting her out after having been so open with her, she’d even thought that the red head was starting to warm up to her...wrongly it would seem. As the night before the lords’ arrival the younger woman had thrown up an icy wall, barely even acknowledging the brunette’s existence.

What hurt even more than the banishment, was that it had been a servant who had just dropped off her morning meal that had passed the message on from the queen. She was to go straight to the glass houses once she was ready and she wasn’t to return until she was sent for. 

Sure, Margaery took joy from working the flowers, but when the choice to do so was taken from her, well it was hard to find pleasure in it at all then. 

Sulking around the flowerbeds and having/losing staring contests with Serena; who had been following her about all day, made the time pass a little faster. She was oddly thankful, if not a tiny bit insulted, to have the beast as company...though she was quite sure the wolf was just here to babysit at Sansa's request. That little bit of knowledge lit a small fire in her chest, if Sansa didn’t care for her even a little, would she have tasked one of her beloved protectors are her guardian, whilst Sansa herself was otherwise engaged.

Sadly, that little flicker of hope wasn’t quite enough to fend off the cold, neither was the thick furs she had donned this morning. As the day started to pass into the evening the cold really started to sink in, to where Margaery feared for her fingers.

“I think that’s quite enough. I’m cold, hungry and quite frankly I’m bored. Surely as long as I go straight to my chambers and don’t wander about, I won’t anger your mistress too much. Thoughts?” Margaery asked aloud, looking towards the red pelted wolf; who just stared back not blinking. “I’ll take that as a yes. Brilliant, let’s go.”

Rubbing her hands quickly against her arms, the brunette made her way to the oddly heavy door of the glass house. She opened the door with a huff and waved her hand for Serena to pass through first and then quickly pulled the door close.

She began making her way along the path, thankfully the snow had begun to clear up, so her skirts weren’t getting quite as filthy these recent days. As she rounded the corner, she bumped into a tall hard body and just narrowly avoided landing in a wet patch on the path, which just meant she hit the cold solid ground instead. 

Looking up she saw the flayed man sigil clasping the man’s furs to his broad shoulders. 

Seeing that the man had no intention of being a gentleman and helping her back to her feet, Margaery gathered her skirts and stood up as gracefully as she could with all her layers on. “Apologies my Lord, I didn’t see you.”

“I suppose you’re the little harlot we’re being dragged into a war for.” The lord replied, looking down his nose at the southern woman, whose cheeks blossomed a slight pink, the offense building within her.

“I hardly believe I can be blamed for the delicate egos of men bringing forth a war.” She replied calmly, whilst brushing off her skirts and straightening her furs. If her time in the north had taught her anything, then it was that weakness should never be shown outside of one’s private chambers. 

She’d spent many days watching how Sansa ruled; a cool gaze, a hard heart and an iron fist that protected rather than crushed those in its grasp. The young queen was never seen to falter and she was so very smart, but she was also honest and brave. So, whilst this weasel looking lord might scare her, she just needed to channel the strength of her queen.

“I suppose you think you’re safe here, what with being that Stark bitches’ pet? Do you want to know what I do to pets?” The man said, leaning closer to the brunette before him. His rancid breath visible in the cold air as it almost brushed the skin of Margaery’s face, sending a shiver down her spine.

Somehow Margaery had sensed that she was no longer alone with the distasteful lord. The air itself was cooler and the surrounding area was utterly silent. Assuming Serena was finally coming to her rescue, Margaery tilted her chin and replied. “I’m a Lady of The Reach, and you don’t scare me.”

“I should, even more so since that filthy Stark whore isn’t here to save you.” He hissed, reaching out to grab a hold of a suddenly petrified Margaery; that surge of confidence was fleeting fast.

Loud snarls and the clashing of snapping jaws broke the silence, making the man turn around quickly to follow to noise. 

Leaning slightly, Margaery managed to peek around the seemingly frozen body of the lord who had just been threatening her…and once her mind registered what she was seeing, well that confidence came flooding back and not that she’d ever say it aloud, but it wasn’t the only thing flooding at sight of a stone faced Sansa Stark; who was doing a marvellous job of making the man visibly quake. Of course, the two Direwolves bracketing her probably helped boost the fear scale.

“Which is it Lord Bolton, am I a bitch or am I a whore?”

“Yo-you misunder…” He stumbled; his pale face almost blue. Margaery wasn’t able to see the panic on his face, but his voice shook with it.

“Fortunately for you, the opinions of a Bastard mean very little to me.” Sansa jumped in. She then gestured for Margaery to come to her, which the brunette did immediately. The queen quickly looked the older woman over as she hurried to her side, looking for injury or harm. Seeing none, she focused back on the creature; who was slowly starting to shift his feet.

“Do not run, Ramsey. You know the outcome if you do.” Sansa said, her eyes narrowing at the jittery man. Had Margaery not been looking at he Bolton boy at the time, she might have seen what Ramsey did, which was the tiniest smirk breaking across the queen’s lips. It was at that moment that he spun around and made a mad dash for the open woods back by the glass houses.

Watching the fleeing man, Margaery gasped and reached out for the sturdy arm of the young queen beside her. Ramsey had just managed to breach the tree line when she heard Sansa speak. “Asher.” Was all she said and suddenly, the giant pale beast launched into the air and gave chase, covering the vast space with ridiculous ease.

“You should get back inside. This won’t be pleasant.” Sansa said, gently pulling the brunette’s hand off of her arm. 

“What will you do?” Margaery whispered. She was sure she was in shock, seeing a more ruthless side to the northern queen was confusing to her. How complex was this woman, how many more sides did she have that Margaery had yet to witness.

“He’ll be getting a taste of his own medicine. Now please, return to your room. I’ll return shortly.” With that said, the red head moved to follow the path that Asher had taken. The grace and calm of it all was somewhat unsettling, but it was impossible for Margaery to not be in awe of the taller woman. She was truly a sight. Magnificent even.

She hadn’t realised how long she’d been standing there for just staring blindly, until screams pierced the air, snapping Margaery out of her trance like state. Jolting in fright, she noticed that Sansa and Serena were no longer in view. At that point she quickly made herself scarce.

Her heart was pounding as she made her way quickly back to her chambers. She immediately shed her heavy furs and dived under the covers on her bed, trying to calm herself. Margaery hoped Sansa wasn’t going to be mad with her when she returned, maybe she’d take pity on her and hug her instead...unlikely, but one can hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I've not strayed too far from how I started working the characters. I do all of my writing at work (I work solo nights) so I might deviate slightly on occasion due to the amount of caffeine I consume, but just let me know if I've done that and I'll try to fix it. Thank you for your feedback, it is taken into acoount and very much appreciated.


	3. The Consequences

Chapter Three - The Consequence

Walking towards the Godswood, Sansa couldn’t help but imagine the southern woman taking this very path, probably trying to warm herself and more than likely arguing with Sansa in her mind. Though thoughts of the brunette would normally have calmed her down, remembering that this mental image actually ended with Margaery being threatened by someone Sansa knew very well to be a menace.

Sansa didn’t have to put much thought in to how she was going to find Asher and Ramsey, for one she had Serena calmly leading the way and for two she could hear the sharp cry’s and growling snaps from the very edge of the trees.

The further she ventured in, the darker it became. The only truly visible light was behind her, but thankfully having known these woods her whole life meant that navigating wasn’t too much of a issue. She knew she would soon be approaching a small pond, that had a slight opening in the tree’s above that gave glimpses of light. And that is exactly where she found him.

Ramsey hadn’t noticed her yet, seemingly far too focused on the large snapping jaw of the Direwolf, as he tried to scramble backwards. He came to a stop when he felt something hard behind shoulders and cold fur brushed his neck, it was then that he noticed a shadow had fallen over him.

“You’re going to die today, Lord Bolton. And I feel the Dreadfort and the North as a whole will be all the better for it.” Sansa said, looking down upon the significantly pale man at her feet.

“There is no honour in this, you…you can’t!” Ramsey shouted, throwing his body away from the emotionally unmoved red head whose face had yet to move at all.

Lifting her chin slightly, Sansa continued to stare at him. Her turning slightly to follow him allowed for the barest hint of light to catch her face, shining into Nordic blue eyes that burned with the fury her face refused to show. “There is no honour in you. So why should you be given the mercy of mine?”

“Please your Grace, it was but one girl…I didn’t even touch her.” Scrambling to reach his feet, Ramsey began again to try and appeal to the taller woman.

Barely containing the need to growl that it was ‘her girl’, Sansa slowly moved towards the pitiful little lord. “You think I don’t know of all the woman, young and old that you’ve hurt, tortured…murdered?” Finally, her frustration began to show as she scoffed distastefully. “For as long as I reign, there will be no place for creatures like you in the North.”

“Run home, Lord Bolton.” Sansa instructed quietly.

Once again Ramsey took the bait provided and began a limping run. Clearly having already been injured by Asher earlier. Sansa waited until Ramsey had gotten so far, though she was only waiting for him to clear the clear water of the pond. 

And as soon as he had she said, “Kill him.” Then turned around and started her walk back to the keep, ignoring the terrified and painfilled screams of a man succumbing to his deservedly grisly death.

~*~

After all the general unpleasantness that had just occurred in the Godswood, Sansa had to first find and speak to one of her guards, so that they were able to collect the body of the recently deceased lord. And then of course she had to deal with the heads of houses, that she’d left mid-talks in the council room, to deliver the news to the boys’ lord father; Roose Bolton.

Of course, there had been some understandable upset, Ramsey may have been a bastard in every sense of the word, but he was also Lord Bolton’s one and only heir. 

Sansa had allowed the man to speak his grievances and spit his anger for a short while, until she started to notice some of the more sympathetic lords were getting twitchy. It was then that Sansa had taken to her feet, silencing the man. She spoke firmly, reminding Lord Bolton that his house only evaded extinction due to her fathers’ honourable nature and now by her good graces.

It wasn’t as if the man wasn’t aware that his son had angered the queen on several various occasions, it was generally why Lord Bolton choose to leave his son out of the council room, trying to keep him out of the queen’s view. Sansa knew all of this of course; she was always notified when one of the more troublesome lords were seen in Winterfell. 

With the lord suitable cowed, the room was eerily quiet as Sansa looked over them all. She didn’t know how long she’d been here already, but she deemed that they’d made enough progress for the one day and that they were all dismissed for evening meal, to reconvene tomorrow.

With only Serena and Asher at her side as she walked the corridors to her chamber, Sansa suddenly found it hard to contain her anger. Her mind was slowly filtering through various scenarios, so many what if’s.

What if Serena had never been with Margaery?

What if she had ignored Serena’s sudden presence in the council room, instead of pausing the meeting to follow her trusted protector?

And the worst thought of them all…What if she had arrived too late to intervene?

Just thinking of the hands of that monstrous Bolton boy touching any part of her new companion made her blood boil and her teeth clench harshly. She knew the satisfaction she felt when she realised Ramsey was about to bolt was poor taste, but it gave her all the reason she needed at the time. Not that it mattered, whether he’d chosen to hold his ground or not, the boy had sealed his fate the moment he threatened Margaery. 

She can easily bring forth the memory of the horror and fear that was etched on Ramsey’s face, and how his face had paled even further when her shadow had fallen over him. The dwindling light at her back and the dense thickness of the weirwood trees, cloaking her front in darkness, made her look like an old vengeful creature…the kind from the tales that mothers told their children to keep them from straying too far. 

Unfortunately she’d let her anger and admittedly the fear of what could have been, show itself when she opened the common room door with more force that she had intended, leaving the heavy door to swing back and loudly bang against the solid stone wall behind it. Had Sansa not been moving at such a pace she might have been hit by it when it bounced back off the wall and back into its frame, with another echoing bang.

The large empty room only amplified the noise and it was more than enough to startle Sansa out of her warring thoughts. Remembering why she had even come back to her chambers helped her to calm down, going in all arrows blazing wasn’t going to help the situation.

With that in mind, Sansa made her way to the conjoining door on the right that would lead her to Margaery. Pulling up a tightly clenched fist, she managed a gentle knock. 

Moments seemed to drag on slowly as she waited for a response, though nothing came. Surely the older woman can’t be asleep, especially after the racket the angry queen had made upon entering the outer room.

Impatience finally won out.

Sansa was quick to grab the handle and turn, pushing the creaking door open slightly. Movement on her left drew her attention, the sheets were still shifting as the body underneath tried to settle. 

“Margaery?” She called out, stepping further into the room.

Again, her call went unanswered. The red head sighed heavily and moved to take a seat on the bed. Her hip leaning against what she thinks might be Margaery’s knee. “Are you going to come out of there so we can talk about this?”

“Depends.” Margaery sniffed quietly. “Are you going to shout at me if I do?” She asked her voice barely a whisper, forcing Sansa to lean in closely to listen.

“I’ve only ever shouted when I was younger…and that was mainly at Arya. I’d certainly never shout at you, Margaery. I just want to see that you are alright, so will you please come out?” Sansa asked. Hoping to reassure the hiding woman, she hesitantly placed a hand on top of the lump.

Sansa knew that she blew hot and cold around her new friend, but she liked to think that should the Margaery truly need it, that she’d seek comfort from Sansa. Although being gentle and visible caring was something she was still adjusting to. 

The blankets shifted again, so Sansa reached over with her other hand and gently pulled the heavy blanket back revealing a red-faced brunette with tears brimming her eyes.

“I was so scared, Sansa.” Margaery confessed quietly. She moved to sit up properly to face the young queen, only her eyes were struggling to lift from where they were now focused on her hands that were fiddling with lose strands of wool and fur.

Had Margaery been looking at the red head she would have seen the usually stoic face crumble in sorrow. 

The southern woman had come all the way north to seek safety and Sansa had almost failed her. Emotions that she had long ago locked away came flooding back, taking Margaery and herself by surprise when she forcible pulled the brunette towards her and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman’s waist, using one hand to tuck Margaery’s head into the warmth of her neck.

“I’m so incredible sorry, Margaery. I won’t fail you again, I promise.” Sansa whispered as she subconsciously began to rock them both.

Melting into the embrace Margaery brought her arms up to slip through the opening of the thick long coat Sansa was wearing, seeking out the heat that emitted from the red heads body. “It wasn’t your fault, Sansa. I should have stayed in the glass house like you had told me to. If I had just listened to you, none of this would have happened.”

“I fear Ramsey would have found you regardless. I’ll spare you the details, but rest assured I’ve made certain that he will never hurt you or anyone else again.” The queen replied, resting her cheek atop Margaery’s head. 

It was hard to remember the last time she truly held someone or was held by another in return, maybe Jon had been the last during their father’s funeral pyre. “If it’s all the same to you, Margaery, I think it best if you remain by my side from now on or at the very least nearby.”

Relief filled Margaery instantly. It’s all she had truly wanted since getting to know the other woman, was to be at Sansa’s side whenever physically possible. The red heads company made her happy and there truly was no safer place to be. “Won’t the Lords mind me being around all the time?”

“Most of them are smart enough to realise that your knowledge of the southern houses and their lands, would be an invaluable asset to have on our side. Besides, I’m the Queen…who is going to tell me no?” Sansa smiled, reluctantly pulling away from the impromptu hug.

When their blue eyes connected, Margaery blushed delicately and bashfully ducked her head as she silently nodded her agreement. 

The sudden shyness of her guest made Sansa’s heart hurt, though she was quite reluctant to label any feelings that might be attacking her because of this woman who had walked into her emotionally cold and solitary life and set it all ablaze. 

~*~

The next morning Margaery had woken earlier than usual, she’d even managed to beat the sun, though it wasn’t too far behind her. An odd calmness had taken over her since Sansa’s unusual show of softness the previous evening. 

Not willing to lose it quite yet, Margaery continued to lay in bed and thought back to the previous evening once Sansa had finally coaxed her from her pile of furs.

Sansa had suggested that they re-join the heads of house for the evening meal, but as Margaery wasn’t quite feeling up to any more potential drama that day, she had quickly decided that if the brunette wasn’t comfortable then they would both remain in the common room for the rest of the night. 

Food had been brought to them by one of the servants and it had been a quite affair, they had merely sat opposite one another as usual, but had taken to each trying to subtly sneak looks at the other…nether being very successful at it. 

After several occasions of their eyes meeting, the blush on the young queens’ pale cheeks was almost as red as the hair on her head, and each occasion seemed to bolster confidence in Margaery. She could feel her enticing smirk steadily grow on her face, which turned into a gleeful laugh when Sansa scowled at her for it.

Not long after the food had been consumed, Margaery was hit with the sudden feeling of exhaustion, the day having finally caught up with her. Sansa hadn’t even waited until Margaery had finished her poorly hidden yawn, before she ordered the woman to bed and retreated to her own.

Just remembering the previous evening brought a grin to the brunette’s face, it felt like her connection with the younger woman had taken several steps in the direction that Margaery had found herself craving for lately. She hadn’t felt such yearning since she’d met that stableman’s daughter back at Highgarden when she was fourteen summers old. Though she certainly felt more for Sansa than she knew to be possible, everything about the northern queen drew her in.

She was so delightfully grumpy, Margaery just wanted to kiss her senseless.

Joy bubbled up inside, pushing Margaery to bury her face her in pillow to stifle the squeal that forced its way out. Once finished she was no longer able to stay stationary in bed, energy coursed through her as she jumped out from her blankets and moved to the window.

It was as she was watching the brightening sky that a giant shadow suddenly blocked the sun for a brief moment, her mind had yet to figure out what it was seeing until the shadow swooped back across the ground and back into view.

“A dragon?” She whispered in wonder. “…a dragon!” Margaery almost screeched, before she darted for the door, heading quickly for Sansa’s own chamber. Any other time Margaery would have never even thought about waking the young queen, never mind entering her private room without knocking or invitation. But there she was, charging in without a second thought.

“Sansa! Wake up, there is a dragon.” Her panic had overtaken her memory, if she just took a moment, she’d remember that said dragon had been invited to Winterfell.

As Sansa slept on the side of the bed furthest from the door, there was plenty of space for Margaery to clamber onto her bed, jostling the seemingly soundly sleeping woman. “Sansa!” Margaery hissed, reaching out she shook the thinly covered shoulder that peeked out of the thick furs.

The touch startled Sansa into wakefulness and she jolted upright, turning to stare at the older woman with bleary eyes. “What, what is happening? Are you hurt?” She asked. Sansa brought both hands up to rub at her face, trying to brush off the sleepiness that was clinging on.

It was almost too adorable for Margaery to remember why she was yet again throwing all of her lady-training and manners out of the window. Until she saw a flicker of darkness go past the window in Sansa’s room. 

“There is a dragon flying about.” She exclaimed, shuffling closer to the woman before her.

Groaning loudly, Sansa fell back into her bed and tried to pull her furs back over her, only Margaery’s shifting had resulted in the brunette kneeling on the fallen blankets, so she threw her arms over her eyes instead. “Daenerys is early.”

“Daenerys? OH yes, well now I feel ridiculous and I’ve woken you like a barbarian. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to see a dragon fly past my window this morning.” Margaery explained, bashfully.

A tired muffled chuckle came from the sleepy queen, before she removed her arms and turned her head to look at the older woman. “I’ll forgive you this once, Margaery. Besides most people react the same when they first see Daenerys’ children for the first time. I’d say you get used to it, but you never really do.”

Just as Margaery was about to reply a knock sounded from the already open chamber door, both women immediately looked towards the noise. A young meek looking servant girl stood in the doorway; her fist still raised from where it had knocked. “Apologies Your Grace, the guards are saying that Queen Daenerys will be arriving shortly. A dragon has already been sighted.”

If the girl was surprised to find Margaery sitting on the queen’s bed in only her night clothes, then she hid it very well. 

Sansa cleared her throat, before thanking the girl and quickly sending her off someplace else, anywhere else that wouldn’t have Sansa’s heart try to beat itself from her chest. Her mind had quickly taken to thinking of numerous other situations that the servant might have interrupted…each one caused her heart to pound. 

Margaery was truly a sight to be seen, her night clothes did little to hide her curvaceous body from Sansa’s appreciative eyes.

Looking down at herself, Margaery realised her state of undress and quickly excused herself to get more appropriately dressed, promising to return shortly to assist the queen with her hair and crown.

“Seven hells, Marge. Just throw yourself naked at the woman, she already thinks that all Southerners are shameless deviants.” She mumbled as she quick footed herself back to her chambers, trying not to think too much into the looks she’d received from the queen.

Not long after that, Margaery was reappearing at Sansa’s door, polity knocking and waiting for permission before entering. Sansa had grinned at her when she had opened to door, her hair looking recently brushed, but was still draped over her shoulders. 

Sansa had decided on one of her dark grey dresses with the leather corset, the one that never failed to turn Margaery’s brain into a puddle of mush. It was worn to show power, but it also accentuated the young queen’s imposing height, making her seem untouchable. Oh, but how Margaery wanted to touch her.

For now, she’d have to settle for running her fingers slowly through that silky red hair as she worked to style it, simply in a northern manner, as per the queen’s request. Margaery had tried on several occasions to get the queen to try some southern styles, but Sansa refused to bend on the matter. She was northern through and through, her style would only ever showcase that.

The finishing touch was the Direwolf crown, which Margaery handled with such care as she gently placed it upon the queen’s head. Stepping back, the brunette took in the full sight of the younger woman as she got to her feet, looking down at her slightly. Then a thought occurred to her, “Where is Serena and Asher?”

Silently Sansa flicked a hand over her shoulder, where her bed was situated and there they were, laying half in view beside the bed. They watched Margaery intently, which wasn’t unusual. How she had missed them earlier was a mystery, she must have been in a blind panic from the dragon situation.

“I’m surprised they didn’t maul me when I jumped onto your bed.” Margaery joked, though she was sort of being serious. Was that not their purpose, to protect their queen?

Tutting loudly, Sansa tilted her head down towards the older woman. “They know you’re not a threat, they aren’t mindless creatures.” 

“I meant know offence, Sansa. I know they like me.” Margaery replied, trying to smooth things over.

“Well I never said they liked you.” Sansa quipped and smirked, before taking large strides on her way out of the room, leaving a slack-jawed Margaery behind to get buffed by the large wolves that quickly moved to follow their queen.

“They do like me.” Margaery cried petulantly as she too moved to follow the retreating red head, who was visibly laughing at her if Sansa’s shaking shoulders were anything to go by.

~*~

Their bickering had continued until they were walking down the wooden stairs that led into the courtyard. Bran, Maester Tolken and the heads of houses were already gathered, many of them weary and looking rather rumpled as though they had been rushed from their beds.

“Good morning Your Grace. And you Lady Margaery, might I say you look lovely today.” The old man fussed; his puffy cheeks already tainted a deep pink.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Maester. Good morning my Lord.” Margaery replied, before turning her attention to Bran who was having a staring contest with his sister; who Margaery noticed was glaring at him.

“A good morning to you also. Though mine was less exciting than…” Bran had started, only to be interrupted by Sansa hissing down at him to be quiet.

Deciding to ignore whatever the Stark siblings were silently hashing out; Margaery instead turned her attention to the other lords and the odd lady dotted around. They of course were all staring at her, though they were likely waiting at attention just in-case their queen decided to address them before the dragons arrived.

One lord in particular was staring at the southern woman, his features were similar to those of that wretched Bolton boy, so she could only assume this man was his father. None to subtly Margaery shifted closer to Sansa, seeking the comfort the queen’s presence provided.

A screech echoed around the keep, closely followed by the heavy flapping noise of giant wings. Every eye looked up, scanning the sky for the beasts they knew were already hovering. The first to appear was a large black dragon; Drogon, if Sansa recalled. Next came Rhaegal and then Viserion. 

Thankfully Daenerys had the sense to not try and land all three dragons in the courtyard; it was a large space, but not quite large enough for three giant winged beasts to land in. Only Drogon dropped down to land, whilst the other two remained circling above.

As the black dragon landed it rumbled the earth, which only made Margaery and some of the lords more nervous. Daring to look away from the angry looking creature, she saw that Sansa didn’t look in the slightest bit affected by the presence of a dragon being only a few feet from her. 

Drogon appeared to fuss for a moment before he dropped his wing and Daenerys was suddenly visible and was gracefully dismounting.

When the white blonde finally set violet eyes on the northern queen, her stride quickened, and her arms flew open as she came close enough to wrap them around the red head. “Sansa! It’s been far too long. You’re as beautiful as ever.” Daenerys gushed quickly in greeting.

Seeing another woman drape them self over Sansa, made Margaery’s eye twitch. She never considered herself to be a jealous person, mainly because she’s never found herself feeling such an emotion, but then again, she’s never felt this strongly about someone until Sansa.

It was hard to hide her upset when the foreign queen turned her attention towards her, especially when Daenerys still had her hands resting on Sansa. Of course, Margaery had noticed that the northern queen hadn’t moved to return the embrace, but that didn’t lessen her agitation.

“And you must be the Lady Margaery, that I’ve heard so very little about. You must be something special to have a war started in your honour.” Daenerys said, pulling back from Sansa to get a good look at the brunette beside her.

Feeling her hackles rise even further, Margaery almost found herself arguing back. Why was everyone assuming this war was her fault? She hadn’t started this or asked for any of it. Before she was able to respond, another body seemed to dismount from Drogon, though far less gracefully as the dragon seemed to shake the other rider loose.

“You did that on purpose.” Arya huffed as she quickly picked herself up from where she had landed on the ground. It was quite a drop, not that Drogon seemed to care as he hissed back at the tiny human who was still glaring at him.

“Arya?” Sansa called in disbelief. She’d honestly never expected to see her younger sister ever again once she had been sent over the Narrow Sea, but here she was alive and seemingly well, in the company of the Dragon Queen of all people.

“Sansa. Is this what happens when I’m not around? You go finding yourself a wife and starting wars with those southern milk drinkers.” Arya replied, moving to hug her sister who actually returned the embrace. They held each other tightly for a short while before letting go. 

“I’ve not started any wars, but I will end one should it come to that.” Sansa answered confidently, straightening her back to reach her full height once again. 

“And you…should I to call you sister then?” Arya said as she turned her attention to Margaery, completely ignoring Daenerys who was still looking at the brunette with what Margaery thought to be a critical eye.

“Arya!” Sansa hissed, looking somewhat mortified. She had ignored the dig earlier and had naively thought that by overlooking it her sister would let it drop. She was wrong. Arya was clearly the same uncontrollable, unfiltered little shit that she had been before she had left.

“Margaery will do just fine, Lady Stark.” Margaery jested back, even though the suggestion of even possibly being Sansa’s wife made her knees weak. 

“Oh, I’m no Lady. Just Arya.” The short brunette replied with a cocky wolfish grin. Yes, Margaery liked the girl already. Even though the younger Starks behaviour seemed to cause Sansa some distress, but Margaery was sure the red head was just as delighted as she was mortified to have her sister back.

She couldn’t say the same for this dragon queen, her judging looks were putting Margaery on edge…not to mention the looks the white blonde was flinging towards Margaery’s dream wife.

This just won’t do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! My work is forcing me into a diploma course, so the nights I'd spend writing this will mostly be spent waffling boring educational s**t instead. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between updates, but do remember I'm winging it. Hope you all approve of the relationship progression so far. The kisses will come! Thank you.


	4. The Glass House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait, I found myself quite behind on my coursework. Procrastination is an illness, I'm sure. Hope this was worth the wait. If you think I'm missing something feel free to point it out.

The arrival of Queen Daenerys and Arya Stark was just in time for the breaking of fast and there was no way for Margaery to hide away from this one, least the people start to talk more of her. Not that she had any intention of allowing the Dragon Queen to run her off and away from Sansa’s side, how weak would that make her seem. 

Maester Tolken announced that everyone was welcome to attend the morning meal in the queen’s company, directing those who still littered the courtyard to begin making their way into the hall. It was clear that many of the lords and ladies in attendance were only there out of curiosity, then for the actual honour of dining with their queen and her royal guest. Though some might have been more interested in the presence of the southern woman, who they were considered fighting a war for. 

Whilst the lords and ladies were ushered through the main doors of the hall, the northern queen and her guests moved quickly through a short passage that brought them out inside the hall, behind where Sansa’s throne sat. A medium horseshoe styled table had been placed before the throne, and numerous smaller seats were placed to its side. A longer table had been placed vertically in front of where Sansa sat, where all the lords and ladies were just now taking their seats. 

Sansa moved to her seat, quickly followed by the dragon queen, who much to Margaery’s dismay had just claimed the seat to the right of the red headed Stark…a seat in which would have normally been reserved for herself. 

Eye contact was made between Margaery and Sansa, the latter of which gave her brunette friend a tight-lipped smile in return and subtly gestured to the seat to her left instead, which had remained empty as Arya had claimed the seat beside the white blonde queen. While it may not have been her first choice, it was at the very least a seat next to Sansa, so Margaery decided to not let it bother her too much.

And that was a thought that quickly vanished as the meal began. 

From the moment the hot milky oats had been poured into their bowls, Margaery had seen nothing but the side of Sansa’s face, and occasionally only the back of her head as she was continually leaning towards the smaller queen, who had taken to whispering in the red heads ear. 

Margaery hadn’t a clue as to what their conversation consisted of and if she was being honest, she didn’t rightly care. Her only focus was that she was being passed up for this foreign queen and she could only imagine how close Daenerys’ lips were to the delicate skin of Sansa’s face. 

Dragging her eyes away from the back of Sansa’s head, Margaery forced herself to survey the room instead. Though it appeared that she was the only one who had nobody to converse with, as all the lords and ladies occupying the lower table were also huddled together and talking quietly amongst themselves. 

Feeling petulant the southern woman grabbed at her steaming tea and took a hearty gulp, once again shifting her gaze. Though this time she found Arya Stark, who was sitting well within her view and who appeared to be brazenly grinning wolfishly towards her over her.

Meeting the gaze head on, Margaery lifted her drink slightly along with a dainty brow and when it was returned, she smirked. She then turned her gaze inward and saw that whatever conversation the two queens were having had come to a stop, as Sansa was now sat rigidly in her chair and scowling heavily towards her seemingly unaware little sister. 

Interesting.

Looking back towards the younger Stark, Margaery watched as the grin slowly morphed into a blatant smirk. The little brat knew exactly what she was doing, and then she even had the absolute gall to throw a wink the southerner’s way, amusing Margaery enough that a giggle to escaped her past her lips.

The sound of a heavy chair being thrusted backwards roughly against cold stone echoed around the hall, putting a halt to all conversations and turning every eye towards the head of the table, as their queen quickly rose to her feet. Automatically the lords and ladies followed suit, all quickly rising from their own seats in respect for their ruler. 

“My Lords, Ladies…I believe we’ve wasted enough time; we shall reconvene in the war room at mid-day.” Sansa ordered, before she excused herself and stiffly walked from the hall. 

Margaery blinked rapidly, not knowing what she should do. She of course knew what she wanted to do and that was to chase after the retreating redhead, but with so many witnesses, she wasn’t sure it was something the northern queen would appreciate.

In her indecisiveness she turned to look at Daenerys and Arya, the former whose face was scrunched up slightly in concern and it looked like she was about to rise to her feet also, but appeared to be subtly halted as Arya’s hand shot out to prevent her from doing so. It was then that Margaery made eye contact with the brunette, who subtly nodded in direction of the door of which Sansa had disappeared through.

Nodding her head slightly, Margaery gracefully and quietly rose to her feet. She quickly dipped her head towards the foreign queen as she excused herself from the table and swiftly exited, making quick strides to catch up to the leggy redhead who already had a head start. Assuming Sansa would seek her beasts, who had disappeared when they arrived at the hall earlier, Margaery headed toward their rooms. 

Unfortunately, she had found the rooms, both hers and Sansa’s, were empty. No queen nor beast in sight. Sighing heavily, Margaery start trying to think of where the redhead might have gone off to, which was when she noticed that Sansa’s extra thick fur cloak was missing from the hanger beside the door. The little candle in her mind flickered to life immediately, Sansa would only take that cloak if she were going outside. 

Quickly Margaery darted into her own room to grab her own thick furs before making haste towards the courtyard. She only hoped that Sansa had not decided to take a stroll through the Weir Woods as Margaery would have no hope in navigating that wilderness without assistance from the younger woman. If the Severn had any favour left for the southern noble, Sansa would be in the glass houses amongst the roses and various other flora.

The sudden rapidly falling snow made the brunette think that maybe the Severn weren’t going to be on her side, as the cold ground allowed for the snow to stick and build quickly. As the path grew thicker with the white dust, Margaery’s quick pace turned into a slow trudge as she moved towards her destination.

Finally, the heavy glass house door was within reach, and with almost numb arms Margaery used her remaining strength to haul the door open and shuffled inside. 

The warmth of the glass house was always a delightful welcome in the north, it was quite different from the glass houses in Highgarden; where they grew Dornish flora and fruits, the warmth in those were more like a stifling heat that drew sweat immediately upon entry.

Rubbing her arms underneath her thick cloak, Margaery walked deeper amongst the flowers and only stopped when she reached the wall of winter roses. It was there that she found the redheaded queen, who was stood silently in a little alcove of tall rose bushes, facing away from the brunette as she gently ran her finger along the velvet pale blue petals.

Though she was sure that Sansa knew she was behind her, neither made a move to speak. It was only when Serena, turned to look at Margaery and grumbled, that Sansa even moved. The hand not caressing rose petals, reached out to run over the thick fur upon the beasts’ head. “Winter Roses were my Aunt Lyanna’s favourite. My father had them brought south of The Wall when she grew too sick to travel, he had this glass house built just for her.” Sansa explained.

“They certainly are a rare beauty. He must have loved her very much.” Margaery replied quietly, as she slowly moved closer to where the taller woman stood.

“I believe my sister finds you to be something of a rare beauty also.” Sansa whispered, tilting her head down to look at Serena. She then quickly brought her head back up to turn slightly towards the older woman. “Not that you’re not beautiful, Margaery. Of course, you are. Very beautiful in fact.” Sansa mumbled quickly, her pale cheeks flushing red.

“Is that so?” Margaery asked, biting her bottom lip as she felt her smile grow.

Feeling bashful after her unintentional admission, Sansa just nodded her head slowly. When she noticed that the shorter woman was shuffling closer to her, her body stiffened. Even though they had hugged previously, the circumstances were different, that had been her comforting Margaery and not the other way around. A strong queen should not need such physical comforts or so she believed.

Gradually moving so she was stood in front of Sansa, Margaery began to open her arms whilst keeping eye contact with the guarded woman. It reminded her of how Garlan used to treat the skittish colts he reared in Highgarden. “I’m going to hug you now.” Margaery stated, before she deliberately moved her hands into the opening of Sansa’s outer cloak.

Sansa stiffened further when she felt Margaery’s arms beneath her cloak wrap gently around her waist. Margaery then moved in closer, pulling them together and allowed for her cold cheek to just about brush against Sansa’s sharp jawline. 

The redhead released a quick breath as the bodily warmth began to build between them, forcing her muscles to relax. Gradually Sansa brought up her own arms to wrap around Margaery’s shoulder, pulling the woman in tighter, making the smaller woman sigh happily and nestle her face further into Sansa’s bare neck. 

Having spent the moments in Sansa’s arms building the courage to do so, Margaery made a move to brush her lips against the smooth pale skin. The pressure of her lips on the bare skin made the taller woman gasp and jolt, feeling encouraged at not being immediately thrown off, Margaery went to press another kiss on the fluttering pulse beneath the queen’s skin.

Just as her lips were about to make contact, something tugged sharply on her outer cloak, almost yanking her fully from the queen arms. Margaery yelped at the tightening of the cloak against her neck and released Sansa from her hold. 

“Serena!” Sansa scolded harshly, as she saw the cause of the brunette pulling away from herself so abruptly. Her wolf’s jaw was locked tight in the furs of Margaery’s cloak from where she had clearly pulled the woman back. 

When the queen moved forward to forcibly remove the cloak from the beasts’ mouth, she heard the unmistakable sound of Asher yipping excitedly. Snapping her back straight, Sansa realised that they were no longer alone, which was why Serena was interrupting their moment. She mentally apologised to her guardian, who then let go of the pouting Tyrell’s cloak. 

“She was going to eat me.” Margaery exclaimed, seeing that Sansa was no longer paying them any attention and had turned her back to her.

“Calm down, Margaery.” Sansa responded as she waited to see who had dared ruin her peace with her southern companion. 

“C-calm…” The brunette started to argue but went quiet when Arya appeared from around the corner, closely followed by the dragon queen, who was gazing about in wonder. 

“And what do you want?” Sansa asked rudely, staring down at her sister. Seeing that it had been her little sister who had invaded her moment with Margaery only served to upset the redhead more, enough so that she did not even care that she was behaving inappropriately in front of the foreign queen. 

“You’re far grumpier than I remember you being. More importantly the Lords have gathered in the war room, there waiting for you…your Grace.” Arya replied with her usual manner. Sansa briefly reminded herself that her sister was accompanying her royal guest and it would not do to have her guest’s entourage eaten by wolves, regardless of how deserving she felt the punishment to be. “I can entertain, Lady Margaery if you like.” Arya quipped.

“Lady Margaery will be coming with me; you can entertain yourself.” Sansa scoffed, glaring at her sister. She turned to Daenerys who it appeared was not paying attention as she was currently poking at several different native flowers with wonder etched on her face when the plant tried to snap close on her finger. 

“Daenerys, if you’d like to follow me. We can get this unpleasantness dealt.” Hearing Sansa address her, brought the blonde queen’s attention back to the others, completely unaware of the tension around her. “Yes, let’s! I’d love to see your broody brother as soon as possible.”

Arya groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose; she was very much not looking forward to going to The Wall and having to watch her overly eccentric liege fawn over her older brother. 

Choosing not to respond Sansa moved to leave, but not before making sure that Margaery was at her side and hadn’t been kept back to walk with her overly bold sister. Sure, she knew her jealously was unbecoming of her station, but recently her interest in Margaery had begun to escalate and she found herself becoming somewhat possessive of the older woman. 

~*~

When Sansa walked into the war room followed by Daenerys, Margaery and Arya the heads of houses straightened themselves up and grew quiet, nobody mentioning that they’d be waiting quite a while for their queen to arrive. 

“I apologise for having kept you all waiting.” Sansa said as she moved herself into position at the head of the table where a large map lay upon, with numerous house models scattered about. Though she noticed that there was a carved wooden dragon sitting proudly next to the intricately carved wooden Stark Direwolf where Winterfell was labelled. “We all know why we’re here, but before we start does anybody have any concerns they’d like to voice first?”

The attending heads of house all looked amongst each other curiously, before turning back to their queen, who looked pleased with the silence. To Sansa it meant that those in her care trusted her to make the best decision and that they clearly thought she knew what she was doing, not feeling the need to question her. She felt honoured to have such faith placed upon her. 

“Let us continue then.” Maester Tolken announced, before shuffling the numerous parchment pieces in his hands. “As requested, your Grace, I sent the letter you scribed and sealed to King’s Landing…they have declined your generous offer of a truce it seems. Though the letter sent to Lady Margaery’s house in Highgarden has proven more fruitful. Lady Olenna has agreed to the terms set; providing she be granted an audience with your majesty.” Maester Tolken said, looking questioningly towards the taller queen in the room.

Silently Sansa shifted her attention from her Maester to the granddaughter of the woman in question, from what she could see from Margaery’s subtly expressions, the older woman was not too keen on possibly having to face her family’s matriarch. 

“What say you, Lady Tyrell…do you think our noble queen, here in the north should further extend her generosity to the South?” One of the bolder lords asked, ignoring the looks his fellow lords and ladies gave him. 

Margaery turned to the man addressing her before she looked steadily into the icy blue eyes of the red head beside her, waiting for some kind of guidance. 

Whilst Sansa didn’t appreciate the patronising tone the outspoken lord used when speaking to the older woman, she was quite curious about how Margaery may respond, so she nodded her head slightly towards her; a sign for her step up and speak her piece.

Clearing her throat gently, Margaery quickly surveyed the faces around the table, some were more open than others, some pinched and some grinning madly…Arya Stark. Shaking off the atmospheric pressure, she focused back on the northern queen.

“I think going south would a be a mistake. I know here in the north you do not like foreign nobles but meeting her in your own lands would be an advantage. Most importantly you are better protected here, not to mention that in this land you are the leading authority…and my grandmother absolutely detests the cold.” Margaery finished with an impish grin on her face as she watched Sansa’s delicate pink lips tick up slightly in return.

“And your grandmothers request to have a formal meeting with myself, what do you think her reasoning behind that might be?” Sansa asked, folding her arms loosely and leant her hip against the large map table so that she was turned to fully face the southern woman, eyeing her with tactfully concealed interest. 

“I imagine her main goal will be to try and convince you to join the Reach and take up arms against King Robert, if that fails then I believe she will fall back on dragging me back to Highgarden and selling me to Cerci’s bastard.” Margaery finished, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had let too much emotion slip in front of so many already judging persons. And being stared at by a stoic looking red head was not helping her stifle the blush that was trying to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Well I have no interest in dragging the north and its people into a pointless war, if that it really is Lady Olenna’s agenda, she’ll be leaving here quite disappointed…and empty handed.” Sansa replied firmly, looking around the table, making sure she made eye contact with each lord and lady at the table. 

“I can give the old bat a bit of a fright if you wish.” Daenerys offered as she picked up the carved figure head of the dragon and twirled between her fingers swiftly, glaring at the younger Stark when she plucked it from her hands and placed it back on the board. “It was merely a suggestion.” She mumbled once she saw the looks, she received from around the room.

Sansa smiled tightly at the white blonde queen. “You’re offer is appreciated Daenerys, although I think you and your magnificent children will find your time is better spent casting shadows over the brave King Robert and his misguided allies.” Though the sarcasm was dripping from Sansa’s rosy lips, her praise of dragons did the trick of making the small blonde glow with pride, immediately forgetting the awkwardness she had created amongst the council.

“I think that’ll be enough for today, I’ll send ravens when we have more information to run with. Until that time, I ask that each of you do inventory of your stockpiles. I’ll not have this pathetic attempt from the South bother our people more than necessary. That’s all.” Sansa announced, nodding to each of the heads as they made their way out, Daenerys and Arya included.

Margaery watched as Sansa leant heavily on the hands, she had gripped along the edge of the table. The red head took several deep breathes, before lifting herself back up to her full towering height and turned her head to face the older woman. “I believe we need to have a talk, don’t you.”

Though there was plenty they needed to talk about, Margaery felt almost guilty that there was only one thing she wanted to talk about and even then…the idea’s floating around her suddenly cotton filled mind had little talking involved, which quickly brought a gentle pink to dust upon her cheeks. “Yes, your Grace.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently winging it, so I have no real plot in mind. If you have anything opinions, then let me know I'll try to work something in. Constructive criticism welcome, I'm still shaking off the cobwebs...definitely got them off my socks at least.


End file.
